


A Silence Full of Sound

by mandolinrains



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Disabled Character, Disabled Original Character, Eventual Romance, F/M, Josh Lyman has PTSD, Leo McGarry has PTSD, May/December Relationship, Original Character(s), Original Deaf Character - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, and Josh learning how to heal, everybody loves somebody, leo mcgarry hides his emotions, sloooooooooooower than slow burn, so does his disaster child Josh, squint and you'll miss it CJ/Toby, this is mostly just Leo learning to love again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28917534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandolinrains/pseuds/mandolinrains
Summary: In the aftermath of an assassination attempt on the president, Trauma Specialist Dr. Aria "Ria" Brewer is called in to provide counseling for one of the victims of the shooting. In the process she finds herself drawn ever more into the inner workings of the White House and, in particular, to the enigmatic personality of the Chief of Staff, Leo McGarry.Struggling with feelings she never expected to come up again, especially not for such an older man, Ria must also scramble to find her footing in a world where opinions can have far reaching effects and consequences. Slowly she comes to realize that the shooting trauma runs far deeper than many are willing to admit and that too many eyes on the opposing side and in the Democratic party are watching for any hint of weakness.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Leo McGarry/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	1. Leo: The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo wondered if Stanley had an overwhelming urge to provide him therapy over the phone. He liked the man, and the fact that he had managed to help Josh, but he never enjoyed therapists himself. He’d never met one he was fond of anyway. Stanley was maybe the one exception, but then again, he’d never met with him. Just a few words here and there over the phone. He hadn’t even talked to him the week before, after the session with Josh. Leo supposed that was a good thing.

Leo McGarry was used to silence. The yawning, gaping stillness of early morning in the White House, before many of the other staffers arrived. It was, in fact, a welcome reprieve from the usual hustle of the White House, something else he’d also gotten used to ‒ but today would be different. The day after Christmas was always quiet. Calm. Next week, the Senate would reconvene. The upcoming leadership breakfast brought uneasy bipartisanship, but joy and peace would quickly be replaced by contempt, arguments, and mudslinging. The new year also brought the State of the Union with it. Sam and Toby were already hard at work on the foundations of the speech, and he did not doubt that it would surpass the last one with flying colors. 

But none of that was what Leo was currently worried about. Instead, as he walked through the halls toward his office, his steel-blue eyes roaming over empty desks, the sound of Christmas carols still in the air, he found himself worried about Josh. The week before had brought literal blood, sweat, and tears, along with an overwhelming heap of anxiety and sadness, to the usual Christmas festivities. Toby, bless him, had been diligent in trying to bring Christmas spirit to the White House, even though he was Jewish, but the pall of tragedy still hung in the air. Like the lingering taste of burnt food, their ordeal in August, and Rosslyn, soured everything with a bitterness that was hard to shake. Josh had exploded in front of the President, and all Leo could see were the echoes of his own pain and anguish. The weight of it, that heavy, vice-like grip, had yet to loosen in his chest. 

He hoped Josh had a good Christmas away from everything. He hoped the younger man had gone home to see his mom and decompress but, if he knew Josh, he wouldn’t have left D.C. Leo absently wondered if Donna might have dragged him back home, kicking and screaming the entire way. The thought made him smile briefly to himself as he unlocked his office door and pushed his way inside. Donna was good for Josh. She’d seen what no one else had. She’d gotten him help. He hoped she would continue to look after his deputy in the coming days and months. 

Once inside his office, he tuned the various televisions there to the news stations. Removing his silk scarf and jacket, he seated himself behind the desk. For a moment, he let the stillness creep into his bones and loosen the tension in his shoulders. Then, he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his glasses, getting down to work. The first item of business was the abbreviated summary from Stanley Keyworth, a therapist from the American Trauma Victims Association they’d brought in to talk to Josh. He knew that patient-client privilege was something Stanley wouldn’t break. But in this job, in order to keep their noses clean, Stanley would have to concede to a level of transparency, and Leo was grateful he’d been willing to comply. 

Josh had told Leo he’d been diagnosed with PTSD, but reading it in the file made the tightness in his chest, the worry for his young deputy, intensify. He’d promised Josh that, so long as he had a job, Josh would too. Leo was determined to keep that promise, but he wasn’t sure just how long he’d be able to. If the newspapers caught wind that Josh had PTSD, it would incur a flurry of op-eds and articles that would call him, and his duties as a high ranking official, into question. He couldn’t bear to consider that happening, but the potential was there. He knew who would be leading the charge if the information were to leak. 

A soft sigh punctuated the silence, and he ran his weathered fingers through his short-cropped, grey-blonde hair. He wasn’t sure how he would keep the information out of the public eye, but he was determined to do so. If that meant changing the structure of the White House and its administration, so be it. He knew that was a possibility. Doing so, in order to put more emphasis on mental health, was something that few previous administrations had even toyed with. Then again, few of them had dealt with gun violence and the strain that it put on their minds and emotions.

Leo sat there for a moment while the TVs droned on, his gaze continuing to flick over the file without really reading it. Instead, he spent several minutes thinking carefully before coming to the conclusion he’d have to speak to the President. He picked up the phone and dialed an all too familiar number. 

“Hello?” 

Leo could hear the sleep in Jed’s voice, and he winced. The watch on his wrist read six-thirty on the nose. He really needed to get better at his timing. 

“Good morning, Mr. President.” 

“Leo, do I need to remind you what time, or what day it is?” Jed’s voice was stern despite being low and husky with sleep.

He shook his head, out of reflex, even though Jed couldn’t see it. “No, sir.” 

“I’m gonna do it anyway. It’s the day after Christmas. Unless China has burned to the ground or California has sunk into the ocean, there’s absolutely no need for you to be at work.” 

Leo knew that as well, but he had things that needed to be tended to. “I need to apprise you of the Josh situation.” 

There was a long stretch of silence as Leo waited for Jed’s response. Even over the phone, he could feel the weight of those words settling around him, and maybe foolishly, he could imagine the President feeling the same way. 

“Mr. President?” Leo asked again. 

“What about Josh?” There was a resigned sigh in Jed's voice. 

“I’ve read the summary ATVA provided.” 

“And you’ve talked with him as well, haven’t you? Josh, I mean.” 

“I have. He’s been diagnosed with PTSD.” 

The other line went ominously quiet. A shiver ran down Leo’s spine as he waited for Jed’s answer.

“I was afraid of that. I’ve seen it before.” 

The silent implication hung heavy in Leo’s office. He knew exactly what Jed meant, but he tried to tamp down the memories of Vietnam as quickly as they rushed to the forefront of his mind. Any mention of the war, and the hurt he suffered, always made him feel the crushing weight of ‘what if?’. What if he had never gotten help? What if Abbey and Jed never saw the warning signs that things were spiraling out of control? What if they hadn’t been there at all? He tried not to think of the way Josh looked as he was yelling at Jed that day in the Oval Office. Had it not been for him, where would Josh be in a few months? A few years? He pushed those questions out of his mind and buried them deep, in the closed-off well of emotions he kept locked up and tucked away.

“Dr. Keyworth said he could return to work after the holidays.”

“Good, that’s great. Did he say anything else?” Jed asked curiously.

In the pause between Jed’s question and his response, Leo took a moment to consider his staff, to try and remember if he’d seen anything off with them in the past few months. Things seemed to go back to normal after Josh was released from the hospital, but he knew that hadn’t been the case. His deputy had been away from work for three months now, recovering. It was odd being in the office and not feeling his manic energy, or hearing his voice, or listening to him yelling across halls at Donna.   
He thought of Donna. Bless her for seeing the signs, but had she seen any in the other staffers since? Or had it just been Josh? He knew the girl had feelings for Josh. Leo also knew she was smart, smarter than he’d given her credit for. They all seemed to underestimate Donna during all of this. They underestimated her in everything, and he felt like he was just realizing that. 

“No, sir. Just to watch out for him, and that ATVA was assigning him a new therapist.”

“Did they say who? Anyone we know?” 

“He didn’t. I was thinking about giving him a call.” 

Leo leaned back in his chair, mulling over the fact that if a therapist were to come to the White House, they would have to keep quiet about it, lest Danny Concannon started snooping around. But it wasn't just Danny they would have to worry about, and he knew that too. He would have to think about how they would keep the knowledge that one of their staff was seeing a therapist quiet. He knew Josh had seen one before, but it had stopped before the President took office. Would client-patient privilege extend as far as secrecy?

“I was thinking,” Jed began, as Leo sat up straight in his chair, “you know, maybe we should have a consultant on hand. Just in case, God forbid, something like this happens again.” 

“You think it will?” 

“It could. Gun violence is gun violence, Leo. There are plenty of men and women out there who hate my guts, or hate that Zoey is dating Charlie, or any other number of reasons I don’t pretend to understand.” 

"You think a consultant would make any difference?"

"Having a consultant on mental health would help the administration handle it better if it happened again. Not to mention help with managing the stress of working in the administration.” 

“They knew what they signed up for, Mr. President.” 

“I don’t care what they signed up for, none of them signed up to be shot at, and Josh certainly didn’t sign up to almost die. I don’t care what my job is or what his job is. He didn’t deserve the hand he was dealt.” 

Leo knew Jed had a point. He sat back in his chair and examined the ceiling. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he attempted to ward off an impending headache, but he could feel it already building behind his eyes, a dull throb threatening the rest of the work he had scheduled for the day. 

“Do you think I should call ATVA and ask Dr. Keyworth if a consultant would be worth pursuing?” 

Leo’s thoughts kept drifting back to Josh and how he would handle the idea of a mental health consultant being so prominently on staff. He knew that his deputy wouldn’t be keen on the thought, but what else could he do? 

Jed’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Call him and ask.”

“And if he thinks it’s a good idea?” 

“Ask him if he wants the job. Josh seemed to respond well to him. Anyone else might pose some problems.”

“Yes, sir.” 

There was a pause before Jed piped up again. “Leo?” 

“Yes, Mr. President?” 

“Go home after you call Dr. Keyworth. There’s no need for you to be in the office. It’s Christmas.” 

Leo sighed, but the sound held a tinge of fondness as he finally sat back up in his chair. “I think I’ll stick around and work on a few things first.” 

“Until Mallory pulls you away?” 

“She’ll be with Jenny today.” The Chief of Staff tried not to feel bitterness as he spoke those words. This wasn’t the first Christmas he’d spent alone and it wouldn’t be the last, but for some reason, it hurt today more than it had the previous year.

“Ah, yeah.” A pause. “I’ll see you next week.” 

“Give the girls my love.” 

“If you’d have joined us like we asked you to—” 

“You know I wouldn’t do that.” 

“I’ll tell them.” 

“Have a good day, Mr. President.” 

Leo settled the phone down on the cradle and tried not to think about the daunting task ahead of them. 

He tried to stop the round-robin of fear that constantly circled his thoughts, and flipped through a Rolodex on his desk in search of Stanley’s number. When he found it, he picked up the phone again, dialing as he did so, then hung up. It was only four am California time, and while he had no qualms waking the President up ‒ it was his job after all‒ he did take issue with the idea of waking up a civilian far earlier than polite on the day after Christmas. 

Instead, Leo got to work on the wording for the proposed guidelines for the upcoming leadership breakfast. He knew that both the Senate and the House majority leaders would come up with their amendments, but knowing his staff, and particularly Toby, he would need to add more to keep the breakfast as amiable as possible. Not that he envisioned that going very well, considering the Dems didn’t control either the House or the Senate this year. His job for the new year was already shaping up to become one of the longest he’d have in office, already topping the disastrous six or so months when his personnel file had been leaked this year. He tried not to think about that. 

At about ten, having worked in the blessed quiet for four hours, he finally dialed Stanley’s number and let the tone sound in his ear. For the second time in two weeks, the fear of the situation tried to latch onto him and percolate in the depths of his stomach. The thoughts he’d managed to push away while working came back with a vengeance. What if Josh wasn’t strong enough? _What if he ended up like I did after the war? Hitting rock bottom and turning to solace at the bottom of a bottle?_ That thought made him sick as he listened to the ringing of the phone. 

That drone, the anxiety-inducing sound that set his teeth on edge, suddenly stopped as Stanley’s voice emanated from the earpiece. 

“This is Stanley Keyworth. How can I help you?” 

“Dr. Keyworth. Leo McGarry, here.” 

“Mr. McGarry,” Leo could hear the surprise in Stanley’s voice and the faint rustle of a newspaper being closed and set aside. “It’s the day after Christmas. Do you ever take a break?” 

Leo bristled a little at Stanley’s tone as he took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair. “I took a break yesterday. That’s all I needed.” 

Therapists and their damned, ever-knowing smirks. He could almost hear it as Stanley spoke again. “One day is hardly a break.” 

Leo wondered if Stanley had an overwhelming urge to provide him therapy over the phone. He liked the man, and the fact that he had managed to help Josh, but he never enjoyed therapists himself. He’d never met one he was fond of anyway. Stanley was maybe the one exception, but then again, he’d never met with him. Just a few words here and there over the phone. He hadn’t even talked to him the week before, after the session with Josh. Leo supposed that was a good thing. 

“But don’t mind me; old habits. I apologize. To what do I owe the pleasure? Were my notes on Josh sufficient for what you needed?” 

“They were. That’s not why I’m calling, though. The President and I spoke earlier today, and we wanted to consult with you over a matter we’ve been considering. If you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you about it.”

There was a pause before Stanley answered. “I have a few minutes.” 

“The President and I were discussing whether having a mental health consultant on staff would be beneficial. In case something like Rosslyn happened again.” 

“I’m sure you have your own people you can contact,” Leo could hear the surprise laced in Stanley's voice once again. “Democrats or bipartisan help that you’ve spoken to before. Why are you coming to me?” Leo didn’t answer. Stanley continued, “You’re worried about Josh.” 

“He was apprehensive about speaking to you.” 

“That is an understatement.” 

“And we’re wondering,” Leo continued smoothly, despite the interruption, “If you think he would be reticent to the idea.” 

“Of a consultant?” 

“Yes, exactly.” 

“Yes, I believe he will be. You should be, too.” 

“Don’t worry about us. We’ve been through worse scrapes with the news and media.” 

“But you know that Josh will worry.” 

Leo knew that all too well. “He’ll be worried about the perception a mental health consultant will create, yes, and I fear he’ll worry about his job.” 

“Yes, he did mention that to me in far fewer words.”

The lull in conversation allowed Leo to debate the President’s statement earlier in the morning. 

“Dr. Keyworth?” Leo asked, breaking the silence. “The President did express interest in offering you the job.” 

“You couldn’t pay me enough,” the other man said wryly. “Besides, I’m not interested in a job in government. ATVA is as close as I’ll get.” 

Okay, maybe Stanley wasn’t so bad. The psychiatrist's words elicited a small chuckle. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

“Nah, Josh and I would butt heads, as I would with the rest of the team. I don’t think I would be a good fit.” 

“Can you think of anyone who might be better?” 

Leo could hear the creak of an office chair and the rustling of papers over the headset. “I do. Her name is Dr. Ria Brewer. I’m actually assigning her to Josh, starting at the beginning of the year. I was going to call her tomorrow.” 

Leo immediately grabbed a pen and a piece of notebook paper to write the name down. “Dr. Rhea Brewer, you said?” 

“R-I-A. Ria. Yes, sir.” 

“Is she any good?” He put the pen down, staring at the paper and trying to figure out what this Ria Brewer might be like.

“Do you mean, will Josh like her?” 

He tried not to laugh at that but barely succeeded. “I suppose that’s the question to ask.” 

“I think she’ll do just fine. As for Josh, well, I guess he’ll have to decide that on his own, won’t he?” 

“That he will, Dr. Keyworth.” 

“I can fax you her information. The stuff we have on file. It should help get the vetting process rolling.”

“Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” 

Leo relayed the fax information to Stanley, who, after a moment, said, “I’ll get that info to you once I’m in the office tomorrow.” 

“My secretary, Margaret, will be on the lookout for it. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Mr. McGarry. I hope Dr. Brewer will meet with your approval.” 

Leo waved off that statement, even though Stanley couldn’t see. “I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” 

“Excellent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. McGarry, it’s still Christmas here at my house, and my wife just woke up.” 

“Of course. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your help.” 

“You’re welcome. Now, I think you should probably go home and enjoy what little time you have left of the holiday. Have a good afternoon.” 

Before Leo could reply, the dial tone rang in his ear again. Smug therapists. He hung up the phone and stared at it for far longer than he should’ve before his gaze fell back upon Dr. Brewer’s name. He wondered if personnel would be in their offices so they could start the vetting today, but he thought better of it. He didn’t want any other backward retorts about his lack of personal life or family. It was bad enough he had Jed and Stanley’s words ringing in his ears. 

He grumbled and stood from his desk, crossing to put his jacket and scarf on. He grabbed a few files and tucked them under one arm. If he wasn’t going to work in the office, the least he could do was get some work done at home. He shut and locked the door and wound his way through the White House until security checked him out with a cheery goodbye that grated on his already thin nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: Walls by Passenger


	2. Ria: The Deputy Chief of Staff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She remembered the newspapers in the days following the shooting. She remembered the news reports and the way the nation seemed to hold its collective breath as they all waited for Josh to pull through...or not. She anticipated the latter with a sickening realization. She still scanned the papers for any other news on Josh as the days led to weeks and weeks led to months. There was a nasty, altogether unpleasant, thought in the back of her mind that, though he might have survived the surgeries they had performed to fix him, would he survive the trauma of it all? 
> 
> She talked to Roger about the subsequent bitterness she felt about his survival. She hated that she felt that way but hated it more that she couldn’t let go of it. Roger knew there was more to the issue than that and that it stretched far beyond Josh surviving his ordeal. She was bitter at everyone who survived. She hated that they even dared continue breathing when…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling generous and trigger happy which is either a good thing or a bad thing or both. So, have the next chapter before anyone else gets to see it. Thank you for reading. Also, thank you to my lovely betas Herald, Malise, and Abby. I appreciate them dearly.

Like Stanley Keyworth, Ria Brewer was a bit of a workaholic, which was why she found herself holed up in the tiny office in her apartment in D.C., on New Year’s Eve, as snow blanketed the ground, bringing most of the city to a standstill. After the frantic celebrations of a few days before, it was nice to look out her window and not see a steady stream of cars driving down the street. She knew it would pick up soon, though, as people got ready for New Year’s celebrations. But for now, she enjoyed the calm and how it allowed her to slow down and pause and not focus too much on her work. 

Said work was spread across her little desk, a mess of handwritten notes and research on multiple topics, ranging from PTSD to depression and anxiety. She could lie and say that it wasn’t tied to her and that she was doing the research for a patient, but she’d spent too much time lying to herself. It was time for her to face the facts. Not that she was sure how well that would go, but it was a new year, and she was determined to help not only herself but also her patients.

A bitter thought flitted through her mind, but she didn’t indulge it. Her brown-eyed gaze flicked over to a picture sitting on her desk. She barely recognized the blonde woman staring back at her, her lips curved into a bright smile, her bangs held away from her face with a pair of cheap plastic New Year’s Eve party glasses. Ria turned the picture away from her and tried to push the thought out of her head so as to keep working. That lasted right until it was disrupted by the flash of the lamp beside her. A frown creased her lips as she tried to keep working, but the light flashed again, causing her to huff. Her phone was ringing. Who could be calling her a few days after Christmas? 

She reached over to press the little green button on the receiver; her gaze fixed on the screen in front of her. Upon further scrutiny, she didn’t recognize the number, but that had never stopped her before. 

“This is Dr. Brewer.”

“Dr. Brewer, this is Dr. Stanley Keyworth. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.” 

Her brow furrowed as she read the captions on the screen and tried to place the name. “Dr. Keyworth?” Then it hit her. “Oh! Dr. Keyworth. From the California branch of ATVA. My apologies.” 

“Apology not needed. You’re fine.” 

The expression on her face softened. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Keyworth?” 

“Please, it’s Stanley.” 

“Only if you call me Ria.”

“Ria it is, then.” There was a pause in the captions. “Ria, I’m calling you about a patient of mine. I saw him before Christmas. I need someone local to take his case and see him on the regular.” 

Business it was, then. Ria should’ve known. The only calls she ever seemed to receive were for business. She didn’t have many friends, or even relatives, who were patient enough to speak with her over the phone. Her deafness was always a problem, but she was used to it by now. 

“I’m sure you’ve been told I won’t consider taking him on until I understand his circumstances.” 

“Yes, your interpreter, Roger, did say something along those lines.” 

“Who do you have in mind for me, then?” 

Outwardly, she was grateful for more patients. The more patients she had, the more time she needed to spend on them, the less time she had to spend on her own thoughts. Inwardly, she had to admit; she was already struggling with the caseload she had taken on over the last year. Roger was going to scold her for taking on anyone else, but she had a hard time just ignoring people who needed help. She’d been forgotten or ignored a lot in her life when she needed someone. She didn’t want to be the person who missed anyone if she could help it. 

“Do you remember the incident in August in Rosslyn, Virginia?” 

How could she forget? Her practice had been inundated with clients in the months following the shooting. She’d seen people who had been there at the town hall and people who’d seen it on the news, which triggered their own mental health crisis. Rosslyn was the reason her desk was a mess of research. Rosslyn was the reason she couldn’t sleep well most nights anymore. But, if someone was hurting, she would help. 

“Yes, I do.” 

“The man I’m calling you about was injured in the shooting.” 

Realization hit her square in the chest as she understood the implications of the captions appearing in front of her. 

“You’re talking about Deputy Chief of Staff, Joshua Lyman.” It wasn’t a question.

She remembered the newspapers in the days following the shooting. She remembered the news reports and the way the nation seemed to hold its collective breath as they all waited for Josh to pull through...or not. She anticipated the latter with a sickening realization. She still scanned the papers for any other news on Josh as the days led to weeks and weeks led to months. There was a nasty, altogether unpleasant, thought in the back of her mind that, though he might have survived the surgeries they had performed to fix him, would he survive the trauma of it all? 

She talked to Roger about the subsequent bitterness she felt about his survival. She hated that she felt that way but hated it more that she couldn’t let go of it. Roger knew there was more to the issue than that and that it stretched far beyond Josh surviving his ordeal. She was bitter at everyone who survived. She hated that they even dared continue breathing when… 

She took a breath to silence the spiraling thoughts in her mind. Without looking, she deftly opened a desk drawer and pulled out a piece of gum to chew. Cinnamon. The taste burned her tongue. 

“Yes, I am.” 

She felt a little nudge at her ankle, and a little blue-roan Cocker Spaniel peered up at her with dark brown eyes that shone in the dim light of the lamp. Thank goodness for Cocoa. She bent down to pick up the little pup and held her to her chest. She instantly felt calm, the feeling intensifying as the little pup licked her chin eagerly. 

“You diagnosed him with PTSD.” Another statement. Stanley wouldn’t be calling her if he hadn’t made that diagnosis. 

“I did. Can you handle it?” 

She thought about the question for a moment as she stroked Cocoa’s fur. Could she handle a PTSD case? She tried not to take those types of cases because of her own personal experience, but she had had no other choice in recent months. She had to absorb the influx of patients the shooting caused. So far, she’d been doing okay. Though maybe her own bitter spiral wasn’t exactly okay, at least she hadn’t tried anything, and she was staying objective when she met with clients. At least Roger said she was. Roger would’ve taken on the cases if she wasn’t. 

“I can.” 

“How are you coping with yours?” 

“I’d rather not talk about it.” 

“Understandable.” She absently wondered if he knew she was struggling without asking. If he did, she was grateful he didn’t point it out. She had her own therapist. “He’ll be a challenge.”

A challenge. She rolled that statement around in her mind and on her tongue, slowly. “A challenge, you say?” 

“He doesn’t take kindly to therapists.” 

“Do any of us, though?” she asked wryly. 

She imagined him laughing in response. “I think you have us all figured out.” 

“Probably.” The smile in her voice was evident. Cocoa was helping immensely. “If I agree, Roger will have to go with me.”

“I’ll fax his file to the Chief of Staff as well.”

“He’s already begun vetting?” 

“He probably called the minute I hung up with him last week.” 

“Last week was Christmas.” 

“You don’t know Mr. McGarry.” 

No, she didn’t. In fact, she was almost completely oblivious to the current administration save for the shooting in Virginia and a few policy things she’d read about in the newspapers. She enjoyed politics and read books on the subject, but she had other things to deal with and research to do. Her job took up most of her time. If it didn’t, she knew she would spiral. 

“When can I expect Josh’s file?” 

“I’ll fax it to you as soon as I get to the office.” 

Her brown eyes flicked toward the clock on her left. It was nearly 9 a.m. her time. 

“You’re starting a bit early today, Dr. Keyworth,” she said teasingly. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

She imagined the wryness of his tone and how it must sound, even if she couldn’t hear it outright or see his body language. 

“Your loss is my gain.” 

Ria put Cocoa down on the floor. The little pup toddled off to her bed in the corner of the room and curled up, tucking her nose under her tail before instantly falling asleep. She envied Cocoa’s ability to do that, to just lay down and sleep wherever she felt like it. She envied a lot of the simple things, but she was trying to get better. 

“That it is.” The captions on the phone paused. “I’ll send you the file and let you look at it. If you could call me back tomorrow with your thoughts, we can discuss whatever else you feel you need to know then.”

“And if I decide to change my mind?” 

“I don’t think you will. I know you like challenges.”

“Have we met before, and I just don’t remember it?” 

Another pause in the captions. Once again, she imagined he was laughing. “I know your type.” 

“Is this a moment where I should be saying pot, kettle, black?” 

“Maybe.” 

It was her turn to laugh. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to look over what you’ve written.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

“Don’t work too hard.” 

One last pause. Another imagined laugh. “I could say the same about you. Have a good day, Ria.” 

The captions signified that Stanley had hung up, and she blew out a long breath. Her gaze roamed over the research in front of her, then raised to the books stacked on a shelf above her. She could hear Roger now. No doubt her interpreter was at the office working on his own cases. He had no living relatives that she knew of, or a wife and kids. He was just as dedicated as she was. Maybe even more. 

She glanced at the clock again and dialed a number on her phone as she started to stack the papers and research, organizing them as she went. She glanced over at the captions and smiled when she read the subsequent “hello” that flashed up on the little LCD screen. 

“Hi, Roger.” 

“Ria. Don’t tell me you’re working.” 

“Are we going to have this conversation again?”

“No.” 

“Good, because you and I both know you’d lose.” 

This time, she knew the pause that ensued was punctuated by laughter. “Maybe, but I’d give you a run for your money.” 

“I know that all too well.” There was a pause as she fiddled with her pen, clicking it over and over. 

“What do you need to tell me?” She knew that Roger could hear the clicking of the pen over the receiver.

“I took on another case. Well, more like had it thrust upon me by ATVA.” 

“Who is it?” She knew Roger well enough to know that his interest was piqued. 

“Joshua Lyman.” 

“Deputy Chief of Staff to President Bartlet, Joshua Lyman?”

“Is there another Josh Lyman you know of?” she asked teasingly. 

“No.” 

“I didn’t think so.” 

Roger was impressed, she could guess that much. Honestly, so was Ria as she dwelled on it a little bit. She hadn’t processed the news quite yet. Not entirely, anyway, her mind still partially consumed by bitter thoughts of survival and pain. They weren’t as circular as before, but they were still there at the back of her mind, droning on in the silence as she waited for words to pop up in front of her. The White House was a big deal. While she wasn’t all that well-versed in politics, she knew that her job was about to get slippery and slightly more overwhelming. There was nothing easy about the White House, and there was nothing easy about treating a member of the administration. 

She vaguely remembered reading something last year about the Chief of Staff. At the moment, she couldn’t remember exactly what it was about, but it was something that had been leaked to the press, and they’d run with it. She remembered there had been mentions of some kind of hearings, but, again, her thoughts had been consumed with other things recently. 

Her mulling was interrupted by a nudge on her ankle again, and her gaze fell to the screen. Cocoa wasn’t fully trained as a hearing dog yet, but she knew, at least, to get Ria’s attention when her name was called. 

“Sorry. What was that? I missed what you said.” 

“It’s okay. I figured you were distracted. How is Cocoa doing?” 

“She knows to notify me if she hears my name. It’s a start.” 

“When is she going in for her full training?” 

“Next week. I’ll have to call her trainer soon.” 

Another pause as she waited for Roger to speak. Cocoa peered up at her, her tail thumping gently against the hardwood floor. 

“Roger?” 

“Yeah. I was just looking at your schedule for this month. You’re pretty booked up. When are you going to go see him?” 

“Depends on if I take him on or not. Stanley is going to fax the paperwork over to you. It’s why I called.” 

“You just knew I was going to be here, didn’t you?” 

She laughed lightly and nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I know you too well.” 

“I know you too well too.” She could almost see him smiling fondly over at her, and it made her own lips curve into a grin. 

She was grateful for Roger and all the things he’d done for her. Getting her mental health back on track was a wonderful thing, and Roger had really taken the time to help her. She didn’t know what she would do without him and, the way this month was shaping up, she hoped he’d stick around for a long time. 

“So, Josh Lyman. Did Stanley call you because he has PTSD?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ria, you know this is dangerous.” She couldn’t hear the warning tone in his voice, but she could imagine it. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m getting better.” 

There was a pause in the captions. “I think you think that, but I don’t know if you really are.” 

“Listen, Roger, I love you, but you need to let me do this.” 

“It’s the politics, isn’t it? You want to feel closer to him, and you think being in the White House will help.” 

She was quiet for a long moment. She hadn’t been close to anyone in over five years. Being in the White House wouldn’t change that. Ria knew that, but the statement still made her pause and think. She had gotten a political science major because of Jack. Jack. Just the thought of him made the air escape her chest, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe, but it was much better than it had been when she and Roger first met. It was slowly getting better, but thinking of him in this context… 

She blew out a long breath.“I just thought I might as well put my whole college career to good use.” She shrugged. “Plus, you know I like politics.”

“You’ve been out of the loop for a while.” 

“Killjoy,” she murmured fondly. 

“Look, I’ll be on the lookout for the paperwork and Josh’s file. You stay at home. Come in tomorrow. Your first patient’s at one. We’ll break it down and make a decision together. I take it you told Stanley wherever you go, I go.” 

“He told me that it’s being taken care of.” 

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ria. Don’t work too hard.” 

“You either.” 

“You know I won’t.” 

She murmured a fond goodbye, and he did too before she hung up. Cocoa was still sitting by her ankle, and the little Spaniel started tugging at a loose bit of her socks. She peered down at the pup affectionately and decided to forgo calling her trainer. She’d spent too much time on the telephone as it was, and her eyes were starting to get swimmy. So, Ria stood from her desk and pushed the chair in, Cocoa still tugging at her sock. Ria bent down and gently swatted at her behind. 

“Stop that, little one. I don’t want a hole in my sock.” 

Cocoa immediately let go of the fabric. Ria shook her head. If the little pup kept being as rambunctious as she was now, she wondered if she would even make it as a hearing dog. She figured not, but it was worth a shot. Besides, the trainer she knew, Brenda, was the best in the business. If anyone could whip Cocoa into shape, it would be her. 

She peered down at Cocoa again. On second thought, she better contact Brenda. She booted up her computer and sat back down at it to compose the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: Music Box by MALINDA


	3. Leo: The Doctor Pt. 2 & The Intern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching Josh go through the day, Leo still worried that they weren’t doing enough for him. He worried that Toby’s aggressive campaign against the breakfast guidelines was something for the communications director to latch onto. Was his own life spiraling like Josh’s had? Like Leo’s had so many years before? He couldn’t be sure. CJ seemed to have a firm grip on things, but she was always calm and cool under pressure. He liked to think he could see when something was going on with his staff, but he’d missed Josh’s breakdown. Who else would suffer unseen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place adjacent to "The Leadership Breakfast." Actually, a few days or so later. Thank you, again, to my betas. Thank you to those who have read! I've had a death in the family so chapter four might be a ways off, but I wanted to share this with you anyway.

At one, a weary Leo McGarry sat down at his desk after a meeting with the House majority, the Senate majority, their respective staff, and the President. He heaved a heavy sigh, pressing his fingers deep into his temples in an effort to ward off his impending headache. Not having control of the Senate or the House was a nightmare. He eagerly awaited the elections the next year because, hopefully, they’d flip them both back to blue. It might be a fool’s errand to get excited, but he was damn near ready for a win. It’d been too long since the last time they had. They needed another one, and they needed one now. 

Leo took a breath and sat up, slipping his glasses on. He had every intention of working on a few things for a budget meeting at two, only to be interrupted. Margaret came bustling with a handful of pink message slips. He stared at her rather flatly as she handed them over. None of them looked important. Most could wait until later. Leo set them aside, but she didn’t move. 

“Was there something else?” 

“Dr. Keyworth called for you. He didn’t say it was urgent, but I thought I’d let you know personally rather than write it down.” 

Leo perked up and sat a bit straighter in his chair. “Did he say when would be a good time to call him back?” 

“He said any time before one our time.” 

“Thanks.” 

Margaret turned on her heel and headed back to her desk. Leo felt the vestiges of fear spider-webbing across his chest once again, and he had to take another breath to calm himself down. He thought it was silly that he was terrified of the idea that this ‘Dr. Brewer’ wouldn’t take Josh’s case. But then he remembered the way Josh had looked in the Oval Office. His expression, the way he seemed to disappear into himself‒ turning into a shell of the vibrant, manic young man he’d grown fond of ‒made him sick. Another deep breath and he steeled himself as he reached over to dial Stanley’s number. 

Thankfully, the younger man answered quickly. “Stanley Keyworth. How can I help you?” 

“Stanley, it’s Leo McGarry.” 

“Mr. McGarry. Thank you for calling me back.” 

“It’s not a problem. Do you have good news for me?” 

“I do. I talked to Dr. Brewer earlier today. She’s going to take Josh’s case.” 

He slumped into his chair in relief. Thank God.

“Excellent. Margaret got her file, and I’ve begun the vetting process for her already. You said she had an interpreter? Do you have information on him as well?” 

“I do. His name is Roger Collins. They are partners in a practice in downtown D.C.” 

“Yes, I noticed she was local. That will be helpful.” He paused. “Did you mention the idea of a consulting job to her?”

“I did not. I felt that it would be better coming from you.” 

Leo didn’t outwardly voice his gratitude, but he was sure it was evident in his tone as he spoke. “Thank you, Stanley. I’ll get the ball rolling on Mr. Collins and look over what personnel has on Dr. Brewer.” 

“I’m glad I could be of service, and I hope Dr. Brewer helps.” 

“I do as well, Stanley. Thank you, and thank you for your transparency.” 

“You’re welcome. I’m sure I’ll speak to you again soon. Have a good afternoon, Mr. McGarry.” 

“You as well.” 

He hung up his phone and tented his fingers in front of him. Maybe the start of this year wasn’t turning out too badly after all. He allowed himself a small smile before he got back to work, looking over the files for the upcoming budget meeting.

****

The leadership breakfast went sideways and Leo couldn’t say he was surprised at that development. Toby got a bit between his teeth that made the beginning of the week unbearable--what with his disdain of the rules and pushing forward with things Leo didn’t want to talk about--and it culminated in a disastrous sound bite. Not to mention a drag through the mud from Republican Senator Henry Shallick that no one was prepared for. Leave it to Toby to get on his moral high horse and attempt to do things recklessly. He couldn’t fault the man, though. His heart was in the right place, even if it did result in a superiority fueled morality attempt. 

Leo collapsed in his office chair early that Friday, silently praying to whatever God might be up there for a quiet day. The backlash from the soundbite had been mostly resolved and things, so far, had begun to quiet down. The good news was Josh seemed to be okay, for all intents and purposes. There had been a few times during the week that Leo felt like Josh was losing grip on reality, but his deputy did a good job reeling himself in, and recognizing that he was getting too close to the edge. He asked Josh everyday how he was doing and, so far, Josh hadn’t had a bad day. Still, Leo wondered how much the younger man was hiding for the sake of his job.

Watching Josh go through the day, Leo still worried that they weren’t doing enough for him. He worried that Toby’s aggressive campaign against the breakfast guidelines was something for the communications director to latch onto. Was his own life spiraling like Josh’s had? Like Leo’s had so many years before? He couldn’t be sure. CJ seemed to have a firm grip on things, but she was always calm and cool under pressure. He liked to think he could see when something was going on with his staff, but he’d missed Josh’s breakdown. Who else would suffer unseen? 

For a moment, Leo sat in the relative silence of his office, listening to the quiet drone of his television sets, and focusing on them rather than the noise in his head. As much as he tried to deny it, Rosslyn brought back his own demons, and silencing them was beginning to get harder and harder. Triggers were beginning to pile up, and he felt smothered under the weight of them. The good thing was, he was better at hiding his emotions. 

Once the noise in his head died down to bearable levels, he sat forward in his chair and began to work on the smattering of files laid out on his desk. Josh might be at the forefront of his mind, but the rest of his thoughts were on reelection, and the minor fact that he and Toby had established a committee to reelect the president. It was time, and he needed to be on his guard and at his best. The rest of the team would need to follow suit. It would be difficult, but if things went according to plan, they’d have one hell of a campaign. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion in the hallway, and he stopped what he was doing to listen. Commotions weren’t typically commonplace in the White House, but since no Secret Service agents had come in to secure the building, it could only mean-- He immediately stood from his chair and opened his door. The unmistakable sound of Josh’s voice, tense, strained, and a few decibels louder than it needed to be, reached his ears. Damnit. 

His strides across the outer office were long and measured. Many of the other staffers continued about their business and didn’t pay any mind, but those in Josh’s bullpen, he noticed, were anxiously listening. He could feel the tension in the air, the uncertainty, and in the midst of everything, he sought out Donna. 

The usually cheery blonde had positioned herself near Josh’s door, and seemed to be taking whatever verbal beating he was handing out. Leo winced but, as he came closer, he could hear Donna’s soft voice trying to calm Josh down as he yelled at an intern who stood just inside his office. The intern was taking it in stride, but Leo could hear the young man--a kid really, not more than twenty--goading Josh, calling him out on whatever they were arguing about, and Josh was having none of it. 

Leo stepped past Donna, and the air in the bullpen and Josh’s office shifted. The intern stopped talking but Josh kept on. 

“What in the hell is going on in here?” Leo barked sharply, instantly silencing Josh, who stared at his boss with wide eyes, blinking rapidly, like he was trying to clear the fog from his mind. 

Donna stood at attention, glancing at Leo. “We’re sorry about the disturbance, sir.” 

But Leo’s gaze wasn’t focused on Donna, it was focused on his deputy in front of him, and the intern to his right. “I asked, what is going on here?” 

His gaze then shifted to the intern, who seemed to cower in his presence. He obviously wasn’t afraid of Josh, but he was just as obviously afraid of Leo. 

“I- I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to upset Mr. Lyman. I was simply trying to point out something he did wrong.” 

“And what exactly did he do wrong?” 

Donna piped up quietly. “It was my fault, sir. I labeled a letter incorrectly and wrote down the wrong instructions, so someone yelled at him, and then he yelled at me, and then he started yelling at Josh.” 

Leo looked between them all, pointing first at the intern. “You. Get out of here. Leave whatever started this on Margaret Hooper’s desk, and I’ll take care of it.” The intern didn’t move. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out of here.” 

The intern scurried out the door, pushing between Leo and Donna, leaving the three of them standing motionless in Josh’s office. The atmosphere was still tense, far more tense than he liked, and it made the hair on the back of his head stand on end. 

Leo knew that Josh was still trying to calm down. He could see the younger man’s jaw clenching and unclenching. His shoulders still appeared tense, his entire body rigid. From the corner of his eye, Leo saw Donna practically trembling, wanting to move closer to Josh, to be there for him, but she didn’t dare move, not in front of Leo. She didn’t want to give everything away, but Leo already knew. It was obvious, and her reaction to the incident almost made him smile, but he didn’t. Now was not the time for that. 

“Donna, go back to work.” 

“Am I in trouble, sir?” 

“For what?” 

That appeared to be the answer she was waiting for. Leo watched as she turned on her heel and left to go back to her desk. Leo shut the door behind him once she was gone, and leveled his gaze at Josh. He wasn’t angry. Not at him. He was angry at that stupid twit of an intern, but the intern didn’t know what was going on. All he knew was what the news told him in August. Josh had been shot. That’s what everyone knew. Only a few knew about the PTSD. After that little incident, he was sure more people would start figuring it out, but he tried not to think about that. 

After a long moment, the two of them staring at each other, while Josh attempted to calm down, Leo sat down in the closest chair. The younger man sat down across from him with a small sigh. 

“You alright?” 

Josh laughed dryly. “Do I look alright?” 

“You look like hell,” Leo replied bluntly. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

Josh’s elbows settled on the smooth, brown wood of his desk, and he pressed his fingers against his eyes. Leo recognized it as a tick. He didn’t say anything else. If Josh was going to say something, he would have to initialize the conversation. So, he waited. His upcoming meeting with Veteran Affairs would just have to wait. This was far more important. 

After a while, Leo watched as Josh finally sat up straight and looked at him with eyes that were no longer haunted by whatever had set him off. Leo could see his deputy breathe in a steadying breath, could hear it in the silence of the room around them. That was good. He was coming back to himself. It made Leo’s heart feel less like it was beating out of his chest with anxiety. He couldn’t imagine the way Josh was feeling as he calmed down. 

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Josh finally asked, curiously.

Leo shrugged. “I got to spend time with Mallory. That was nice.” 

“Didn’t the President invite you to New Hampshire?” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to intrude.” 

Josh quirked an eyebrow, almost frowning at those words. “It’s the President. He wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t want you there.” 

But Leo waved him off. “I got some work done. Started the ball rolling on a few things. It’s fine.” 

Josh shrugged and sat back in his chair. “People are gonna start noticing.” 

“About you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t care. I made you a promise, and I’m going to keep that promise.” Leo paused for a moment and regarded Josh with a hard, yet caring gaze. “You’re not alone here, Josh. No man’s an island. You have Donna and you have me and you have the President. I stand by that.” 

“But if I keep--” 

“Keep what?” Leo asked, cutting the younger man off quickly. “Keep feeling? Keep letting it out? You’re not broken. None of us are, and you’re not the only one who’s suffering.” 

Josh’s eyes narrowed slightly. That was as close as Leo was willing to get to admitting to his own struggles with PTSD, and how Rosslyn had brought all that flooding back. He knew he probably should heed his own words, but the truth of the matter was, he needed to be an island. Josh didn’t. Josh was young. Josh had his whole life ahead of him. Leo didn’t have much more in his future. After the President was finished serving his term, be it one or two, Leo was just going to be Leo. A private citizen. A former politician. A former drug addict. A former alcoholic. A former being, drifting in the expanse between something and nothing. He’d resigned himself to that long ago. 

But Josh? The kid had potential. He’d be in this business for a long, long time, probably longer than even Leo had been. He could be anything he wanted to be in politics. He never imagined Josh would go for the big leagues, he wouldn’t cut it as President, but he could be a consultant, a Senator, hell, even Chief of Staff one day. Josh was good, and Leo wasn’t going to let this get in the way of that. 

“Think you’ll be okay to stick around today? Work on some things? Or do you want to go home and rest? Come back Monday with new eyes.” 

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It was nothing.” 

Leo nodded and accepted the fact that he couldn’t force Josh to do anything that he didn’t want to do. Not when it came to his personal life, after all. In the administration, he still had the upper hand. 

Leo stood from his chair and started to leave, but he quickly turned and asked, “How was your Christmas? Did you get out of the city?”

Josh had already begun to read something on his computer and jumped a little when Leo spoke, obviously lost in thought and not paying attention. “Yeah. Yeah, I got to see Mom.”

“Did Donna have to drag you?” Leo asked with a bit of mirth.

Josh appeared to note the tease and chuckled weakly. “She bought the plane ticket, yeah. Pushed me out of the office.” 

“I thought so.” 

Josh laughed again, the sound much heartier this time. “She takes care of me.” 

“She likes it too. Keep letting her do it.”

Josh nodded. “Thanks, Leo.” 

He tilted his head, not saying a word as he slipped out of Josh’s office to return to his. The staffers who had gathered around to listen to Josh’s angry words dispersed quietly, as Leo opened the door to his office and stepped inside. For a moment, he stood there, thinking quietly, before he turned to the left and entered the Oval Office. 

The President was in the middle of a briefing that didn’t require Leo’s presence but, when Jed noticed his chief of staff over the top of his glasses, the President turned to the men and women in front of him and excused himself. They nodded and began talking amongst themselves, the slight drone of conversation a perfect cover for what Leo had to say. 

“I just got done talking with Josh.” 

“Is he alright?” Jed glanced at his audience. Thankfully, none of them seemed to be paying attention. 

“He and an intern got a little heated earlier. He’s fine now.” 

Leo’s tone of voice betrayed him and as soon as he finished speaking, the President paused, turned to the men and women gathered in the office and smiled warmly. Nothing was amiss. At least not according to them. Leo admired his bravado in the face of such tumult.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Something’s come up. We’ll have to continue this another time.” 

The men and women all gathered their briefcases and bags, and quickly left the office, leaving Leo and the President alone. Jed crossed the room to the resolute desk and sat behind it, careful to set his glasses down where he wouldn’t lose them. 

“Should we be sending him home? When is this new therapist supposed to start? Can we call her in early?” 

“She starts next week. He has an appointment at eight on Tuesday. Donna told me.” 

“If he’ll go.” Jed stated plainly. “You know he’d just as soon do one of your confounded big block of cheese days before he’d talk about himself, least of all to a therapist.” 

“No need to remind me of that,” Leo said dryly.

“You’re doing another one of those soon, aren’t you?” 

Leo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Next Tuesday, in fact.” 

“You planned that, didn’t you?” 

“No, I did not.” Leo wasn’t the least bit amused. 

“Have you spoken to her, this new therapist? Does she know what else she’s getting herself into?” 

“I don’t think she does. Dr. Keyworth hasn’t mentioned anything about it either.” 

“What are you waiting for?” Jed asked. Leo noted the hint of confusion on his expression. It was unlike Leo to suggest something and then not follow through with it. 

“Sir, I think the best way to handle this is to come up with a list of potential names first. Bipartisan, preferably, to appease both sides of the issue.” 

Jed’s eyes narrowed and Leo felt his hard gaze on him. He knew exactly what the President was thinking. Republicans would be less receptive to the idea. They would rather stick their heads in the sand than acknowledge gun violence was an issue. In addition to that, they weren’t exactly mental health advocates. Again, they’d rather stick their heads in the sand and pretend nothing bad ever happened. The joys of working with the right and, more particularly, the Christian right. Jed was a Christian, but even he knew that there was more to mental health than praying to God for relief from anxieties and worries. Involving the Republicans was going to be a bad idea all around. 

“Both sides of the issue? Leo, don’t pretend that the Republicans care about mental health or gun violence and the side effects of it.” 

“I’m just saying it’s a good idea to entertain a few names. You said it yourself, this is a bipartisan issue.” 

Leo was right and he could tell that Jed knew it. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem reaching out and drawing up that list. Just make sure her name is on it. I don’t want any surprises when it comes down to choosing.” He shuffled some folders around to keep his hands busy for a moment. “And if she’s not the right fit, we’ll look somewhere else.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

No sooner had Leo spoken, Jed was shouting across the office for Charlie, who promptly entered the room. “Mr. President?” 

“Schedule fifteen minutes in the day somewhere so I can finish up that meeting I just dismissed.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Charlie turned to leave. Leo kept watching the President. When shuffling folders wasn’t enough to occupy his mind, Jed looked back up at his chief of staff. Leo could see the worry etched in Jed’s face, the way the anxiety settled in the wrinkles of his forehead and the lines at his eyes. There was something weighing on Jed’s mind, but Leo could tell he wasn’t keen on speaking about it. If he were to, it would give that anxiety a voice, and it wouldn’t just settle in the wrinkles of his face. It would settle in the office, and follow him wherever he went, an elephant in the room that would slowly engulf every nook and cranny of the building. They didn’t want that, but what other choice did they have? 

Jed sighed heavily. “Give it to me straight, Leo. If this keeps happening, how long before I have to pull the plug?” 

Leo feigned innocence. “Sir?” 

“Josh. The staff will start talking. That, uh, intern today. How much do you trust him to keep his mouth shut?” 

“Not at all, sir.” 

“Exactly. How long before this starts hurting us?” 

“I won’t let it, sir.” 

“Leo--” 

“No, Mr. President. So long as I have a job, he has a job.” Jed fixed him with a hard gaze, but Leo didn’t back down. “It’s Josh. He’ll be fine. Give him time.”

Jed let out a long breath and nodded anyway. “I couldn’t fire him anyway. You’d be lost without him.” 

Leo snorted softly. “Whatever you say, Mr. President.” 

“You would be. We all would be.” 

Jed wasn’t wrong, and Leo knew it all too well. 

He stood there in the silence, letting the implications of their conversation settle between them before he spoke again. “I’m late for a budget meeting.” 

“Ask Donna to keep an eye on Josh, won’t you? I’m sure she already is, but it doesn’t hurt to remind her every once in a while.” 

There was a small flicker of a smile on Leo’s face. “Will do, sir.” 

With that, the conversation was over. Leo left the Oval Office feeling a renewed sense of duty for his young deputy. The uncertainty and the anxiety were still settled in his chest and the pit of his stomach, but he felt better for the first time in over two weeks. If this “Dr. Brewer” was as good as Stanley made her out to be, Leo had no doubt that Josh would be on the mend before anyone knew it, and hopefully before the reelection campaign kicked off. 

His thoughts wandered to the conversation he’d had with Toby that past Wednesday in the Oval Office as he returned to his own and sat at his desk. He wondered if a new consultant on mental health would bring down their favorables. He knew most people didn’t accept most mental health diagnoses as legitimate, and there was still so much they didn’t know about things like depression, addiction and PTSD. But he hoped that maybe, just maybe, this would be a step in the right direction. They would figure it out, he mused, as he took out a piece of paper and jotted a few names down. He paused as he appraised the names before adding Dr. Brewer’s name to the list. Then he sat the list aside, picked up a few folders, and left his office for the Roosevelt Room for the dreaded budget meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: My Beast by Smash Into Pieces


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking back on it, she realized the mistake she made, and the mistakes she needed to stop making in the future. Which was why, at five that evening, Donna made it a point to shut down her computer and gather her things. Other staff was beginning to trickle out of the White House, and the silence was starting to get heavier and heavier as the minutes ticked by. The evening’s darkness began to seep into the corridors and through the slits in the blinds around the office. Slowly, she pulled on her jacket and wound a scarf around her neck. Next came a hat before she picked up Josh’s long brown coat and walked into his office. When she entered, he was rubbing his eyes tiredly. He couldn’t fool her though. She knew he was trying to hide his exhaustion, and that it went deeper than even he would admit to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank my lovely beta, Herald, for reading this for me and suggesting edits, as he always does. I would be lost without him. This story would also be a humongous mess if it wasn't for him. Seriously. So, let's give him a round of applause. I also wanted to mention that this is the first time I've ever written Donna's point of view and while I was writing this, I was watching the first season so I apologize if her voice is a little off. I tried my hardest and am pretty proud of how this one turned out because, whew, it was rough at first.

At the end of the day, Donna could feel the tension in her shoulders finally beginning to subside. After the run-in with the intern, she noticed Josh had been edgy and jumpy for the rest of the day, despite Leo coming in and diffusing the situation. He’d been like this for months, though. Ever since he was released from the hospital, she could tell a fuse was burning, getting shorter and shorter until the explosion hit. 

The big one resulted in Stanley Keyworth coming out from California for an intervention at her request. Thank God for Leo. But the explosions kept coming, anger directed at everything but the elephant in the room. She’d noticed the way he kept snapping at people. She’d noticed the way that things kept happening. He’d forget things, occasionally trailing off in the middle of a sentence. Sometimes, she’d hear a crash of something hitting the floor of his office, flung there of his own volition, and she was getting almost too familiar with the muttered curses coming from his office.

She’d seen all of this before. In the days and weeks after the attack, she’d come over with food and groceries, and help him do some light housework. She didn’t have to do it, she could’ve asked others to help, but with him out of the office and her being his assistant, she felt like it was the more natural fit. Besides, she  _ wanted  _ to do it.

She ended up over there almost every weekend to help take care of things and make sure that nothing unnecessary stressed him out until he could get back on his feet. She had famously told Toby off when he wanted to see Josh about suing and confronting the hate groups responsible for the attack. After that, no one came to her to speak to Josh, fully expecting to be rebuked, and rightly so. He wordlessly appreciated the protection during those months, she knew that much, even if he pretended to be indignant about it.. She knew him well enough she could tell the relief that seemed to wash over him when she showed up. It made a warmth swell in her chest, resulting in a bright smile. Reassurance. He was going to be fine and she wholeheartedly believed that.

That was, she believed it until one day she walked into his apartment to find a cyclone of destruction, papers were strewn everywhere, glass was broken in the kitchen, books were spine up on the floor. A well of hurt that bubbled and exploded in his usually somewhat calm sanctuary.

It was then she realized just how glad she was that she kept everyone else at bay. He wouldn’t want anyone else to see the damage.

What took the brunt of his anger wasn’t his possessions, but rather the puckered and healing skin of his side. Each angry outburst resulted in his skin ripping at the seams. Scabs, crusted over and healed, broke open, seeping blood as red and angry as the contents of his mind. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Donna realized that now but at the time, she thought he was upset about his confinement, rather than suffering the effects of something deeper, something she couldn’t quite comprehend. A part of her wondered how she could have missed it. Another part wondered why she didn’t say anything to Leo sooner.

Looking back on it, she realized the mistake she made, and the mistakes she needed to  _ stop  _ making in the future. Which was why, at five that evening, Donna made it a point to shut down her computer and gather her things. Other staff was beginning to trickle out of the White House, and the silence was starting to get heavier and heavier as the minutes ticked by. The evening’s darkness began to seep into the corridors and through the slits in the blinds around the office. Slowly, she pulled on her jacket and wound a scarf around her neck. Next came a hat before she picked up Josh’s long brown coat and walked into his office. When she entered, he was rubbing his eyes tiredly. He couldn’t fool her though. She knew he was trying to hide his exhaustion, and that it went deeper than even he would admit to. 

“C’mon, Josh. It’s time to go.” He grumbled and she made it a point to brandish his coat closer to him. The fabric brushed against his desk, the sound evident in the quiet. “It’s not a suggestion, Josh.” 

“Donna,” he began to complain. “I’m in the middle of something here.” 

“It can wait until tomorrow.” 

“Donna--” 

“Josh, come  _ on _ . We’re  _ leaving _ .” She avoided thinking about how her tone sounded like she was pleading for him to listen to her. 

“Where are we going?” Josh asked, pulling her from her reverie as he pulled on his coat.

Donna shrugged elaborately as she put on a pair of fuzzy, light pink gloves. “We could go have a few drinks.”

She tried to make her tone sound nonchalant, but she could hear the amount of caring in her voice, and she bet he could too. But he didn’t say anything as he started gathering up his papers. She wanted to stop him and say, no, don’t take this with you, be off for one night, but she knew that would be pushing it. Getting him to leave at a decent time was hard enough.

“Drinks sound good.”

“Not too much, though,” she said pointedly as the sound of a zipper reached her ears.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and regarded her suspiciously. She felt herself smile in response to that rather hard gaze. She briefly wondered if he was considering whether this was a good idea. It probably wasn’t, but she wasn’t going to draw attention to that. If he tried to drink too much, she was fully prepared to cut him off, though maybe attempting to do that was a fool’s errand. She’d just have to wait and see. 

“Donna, I have to work tomorrow. I won’t get drunk and try to come in anyway.”

“You’ve done it before,” she pointed out quickly, a smirk playing across her lips.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled as he led them out of his office and shut the door.

“I don’t know, though. The Gordon’s Fisherman look was kinda hot.”

“Really? You think it was?”

Donna had to suppress a laugh as she led him down the hall. “No, not at all.”

“You’re mean.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you like about me.”

“I thought that’s what you liked about  _ me _ .”

Boy, he really was clueless. But, despite that, she gave him a dazzling smile and tried to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I like about you.”

“Ha, I knew it.”

They fell silent as they both signed out of the building and headed to the parking garage. Once there, she stopped suddenly, and he ran right into the back of her.

“You know, the key is to keep on walking.”

“Shut up,” she began as she rummaged in her purse. “My car or yours?” Her voice was muffled as she tried to find her keys.

“That sounds like an invitation, Donatella.” There was a smirk to his words that she could clearly hear. “Is it?”

“Maybe it is, Joshua.” She pulled out her keys and looked at him expectantly, willing him to take the hint, to realize that she didn’t want him to be alone today after his outburst.

“Won’t your roommates be, you know, annoyed that they have an unexpected houseguest?”

A huff rose unbidden to her lips. “Fine. You drive yours and I’ll follow you there.”

“Where exactly is there?”

“I said downtown.”

“I thought you didn’t like the college co-ed bars.”

She shrugged elaborately. “I’ll live.”

They stood there for a moment longer than they needed to as Josh pulled his keys from his jacket pocket, watching her expectantly like he was waiting for her to make the first move. In the immediate days after Rosslyn, before he returned to the office, something shifted in Josh. Where once he was the go-getter, unafraid to do anything or approach anyone, now he backed off and let Donna take the lead. In the back of her mind, she wondered if that would change once things started going back to normal, whatever “normal” might entail now. She knew they could never truly go back to normal. But she tried not to think about that as she headed toward her car.

“I’ll wait at the gate,” he called over his shoulder as they parted ways.

She nodded in response despite the fact he couldn’t see her before she made it to her car and unlocked it, climbing inside. Donna took a few moments to collect herself and breathe. In and out. In and out. Heavy breaths as she tried to push aside the events of the day. But she didn’t linger. She couldn’t. So, she shoved the key into the ignition and turned it, the car sputtering to life, roaring beneath her as she pulled from the parking space and followed after him.

Josh was, indeed, waiting for her at the gate and, when her lights came up behind him, he pulled from the parking garage and turned right onto H St NW. She followed, but instead of doubling back toward Georgetown, he continued downtown to a rather swanky place she was surprised he knew about. She tried not to be impressed, but couldn’t help it when she finally parallel parked, turned off her car, and slid out into the cold, D.C. air. Her breath plumed in a fine mist as she waited for him, huddled in her coat, hands tucked up under her arms for warmth. Thankfully, he wasn’t much further behind her, parking a few places further along and rejoining her. When he opened the door to the bar for her, she stepped inside with a whispered and fond, “thank you.”

The typical Friday night crowd in D.C. was thin on the ground, but she imagined that, as the evening went on, the bar would get more and more crowded. She just hoped that they could leave before that happened. Maybe the dull drone of talking would take Josh’s mind off of whatever was bothering him, but she doubted it would help her. She had a feeling that, today, it would do little other than make her emotions and feelings worse.

“Follow me,” Josh said from close to her ear. She felt the solid warmth of his hand on the small of her back, but it was gone before she could fully appreciate it.

She followed him to the back corner of the bar, where he found a lone booth away from the crowd and away from any windows or the front door. The realization of that made a pang of sadness shoot through her, a frown pulling her lips down and wrinkling her mouth at the corners. In the rather dim light, she watched him closely as he sat down and got comfortable. Any earlier thoughts that maybe he was getting better after seeing Stanley went out the window. He was getting worse.

“What do you want?” He asked as she started pulling off outerwear to get more comfortable before settling into the booth.

“I’ll take a Budweiser.”

He nodded and stood back up, slipping away to the bar before quickly returning with a smile that made the dimples at his cheeks deepen. “Drinks ordered.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear and couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Thanks, Josh.”

Another nod and he slid into the booth across from her. “So, what’s up with you asking me out for drinks? This isn’t a date, is it? Did I forget a work anniversary or something? You know you’re the one who’s supposed to remind me of these things.”

Donna snorted and shook her head. “No, it’s not a work anniversary. I just thought that maybe you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

Josh looked startled for a moment. “What made you think that?”

Another pang of worry shot through her. “Today, Josh. The intern?”

His face darkened at the memory, eyes narrowing as he looked away from her. “I’m fine.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“You don’t know me very well, Donna.” 

“I know you well enough, Josh.” A waitress brought their drinks and set them down in front of them before quickly scurrying off. Donna could feel the tension in the air, and she didn’t like it. “It’s okay, you know?”

“Why does everyone keep saying that? That it’s okay to not be okay? It isn’t. Not in this line of work.”

“No one blames you, Josh. No one blames you for any of this.”

“No, but they’re watching me. They’re watching to see if I’m going to screw up. The only reason no one in the press corps has found out yet is because Leo has put his ass on the line for me. I can’t ever repay him for that.”

“I think you’ve done enough for him and he knows that. This is him repaying you for what you and Sam did last year after Lillianfield. Not that he thinks of it that way, it’s only you who does.”

He pushed a hand through his hair and finally picked up his beer to take a swig. “He can’t keep covering for me.”

“He can do whatever in the hell he wants to do. It’s Leo. You know you can’t talk him out of things.” 

That seemed to strike Josh and she watched as he deflated. He sat back in the booth, drinking his beer silently, and seemingly trying to ignore the words Donna had said. She fell quiet as well and the only sound between them was the low rumble of the other patrons chatting, the sound getting louder and louder as more and more people entered. She tried to ignore the many faces around her, but she recognized a few of them. Some were staff at the White House. Others were aides who worked on the Hill. She didn’t see any congressmen or women, but it wouldn’t surprise her if there were a few of them here, doing the same thing they were doing, drowning their Fridays in a stiff drink.

A part of her regretted inviting Josh out. He was obviously still simmering in the mire of his mind, his brown-eyed gaze hollow and haunted, focused on nothing. It was like he was staring down some invisible demons no one else but he could see. She briefly flicked her own gaze in the same direction he was looking, but there was nothing and no one there. He was just lost in the depths of his own thoughts.  _ I’m used to this _ , she thought with a sickening realization. He’d done this often in the three months she’d gone over to his apartment. The guilt began to creep in again, the tendrils of it wrapping around her heart and squeezing tight.

“You know I’ll be fine, right?”

Donna blinked as she realized Josh had spoken. It took her another few seconds to process what he’d said.

“Of course, I do. You have me and the staff. You have a therapist who’s going to—”

“I don’t have a therapist yet,” he cut her off quickly.

“Hmm, yeah you do.” She set her Budweiser down and turned in her chair to rummage in her purse. “Margaret emailed me today. Hold on.”

The dark look of his gaze deepened. Donna caught it out of the corner of her eyes as she searched for the little pink slip she’d written the information on.

“Ah, here it is.” She quickly pushed it across the table toward him.

He sat his beer aside, picking it up to look over. His eyes narrowed. “Dr. Ria Brewer?”

“Short for Aria, Margaret said.”

He hummed, obviously unamused, and it caused her lips to curve downward into another frown. It felt like she’d been wearing that frown a lot recently. 

“Why a woman?” He asked.

“Why not?”

Josh shrugged and shoved the piece of paper back to her. “Who made the appointment?”

“I think Leo did.”

“He should’ve known better than to schedule it for Tuesday.”

Her brow furrowed. “It’s big block of cheese day. It’s the perfect day for it.”

Another unamused hum.

“Give her a chance.”

“What could she know about what I’m going through?”

“Josh,” she began, but he cut her off again.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Fine. I’ll give her a chance.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. The words might not be genuine. He might change his mind before Tuesday, but at least, for the moment, Donna felt like she had some control over the situation. If she did, maybe he did too. She doubted it, but at least she could pretend, sitting there in the bar.

“Donna?”

She turned to face him with a smile, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light. Deep down, she knew the expression on her face was a mask, something to help dull his pain and mask her own worry and anxieties. But it seemed to work. The smile he gave her was more genuine than she’d seen all day. She felt the tension in her shoulders loosen.

“Yeah?”

“Think you could stay with me tonight?”

“You’re lucky your couch is comfortable.”

That was her answer and she left it at that. Not that he seemed to mind, though. His dimples remained, as did his smile, and they started talking about the day, avoiding the rather large, angry elephant in the room. For the first time since August, she felt more relaxed than she had been. It was a welcome feeling, and she reveled in it as she ordered another beer and listened to him talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: Deliver Me by Sarah Brightman.


End file.
